


“Bímse buan ar buaidhirt gach ló~” → I will persevere in victory every day

by welcometomystic



Series: Daisies, Daisies Perched Upon Your Forehead [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Also tagging this non-con because there are elements and I wanna make sure ppl are ok, Fae & Fairies, Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, He is not in the Witcher universe at all, His mage also is not in the universe, I just didn't want to fuck around with the plot too much, Kidnapped Jaskier | Dandelion, Kidnapping, M/M, Okay so I invented a Lord for this, This is the first in a series of oneshots, Though the place he's from is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25439122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcometomystic/pseuds/welcometomystic
Summary: Jaskier has been kidnapped by the evil Lord Hadrian of Troy, as the man is obsessed with the Fae and has an incessant need to collect them all. However, how will Jaskier do in confinement?
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Series: Daisies, Daisies Perched Upon Your Forehead [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842577
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	“Bímse buan ar buaidhirt gach ló~” → I will persevere in victory every day

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The song sung in this fic is called "Mo Ghile Mear (Arr. Desmond Earley)" and is performed by The Choral Scholars of Ireland and Scotland. If you want to hear it and why it inspired me to write this scene, please check out that specific version of the song. Otherwise, you won't get the full effect.
> 
> Thanks for reading the disclaimer! Now, continue on X3 I hope you enjoy!

Jaskier could not give a sound estimate as to the number of days he was being held against his will in the court of Lord Hadrian of Troy, but he assumed it had been at least a week, if not two. For one, Jaskier was noticing that he was becoming thinner; it was not as if he was being stuffed like a pig while traveling with Geralt, but his lover did insist on Jaskier eating regularly enough that he had a healthy layer of fat on him. However, as Jaskier looked at his reflection in a puddle on the floor of his lackluster chambers, he could see his cheeks looked almost sunken and he had this chill he couldn’t seem to fight no matter how many blankets he wrapped around his frame. Of course, this could also be due to the iron cuffs around his wrists, and the similar collar he wore. The offensive metal seeped away all his natural magic until the force that kept his heart beating and his lungs breathing was all that was left.

“ _ Oi, _ ” A guard called, banging the hilt of his sword on the metal, cagelike door of his cell. Jaskier’s overly sensitive ears rang at the sudden noise and he quickly raised his hands up to cup the now-pointed appendages as he grit his fanged teeth in a natural response to the pain. “Get cleaned up, Pix! The Lord’ll see you now… and ya know how he likes all of ya’s lookin’ pretty.”

Jaskier sighed as he bit his tongue, restraining himself from shooting a sly remark back to the now-cackling guard. He certainly  _ did _ know how Lord Hadrian wanted Jaskier to look in his presence, and he knew what the Lord wanted from him just as much as the guards did. The sick man was obsessed with Fae such as himself, his fetish seemingly insatiable as he continued to kidnap and collect Fae, then kill them off when he was bored of them. And Hadrian was constantly growing bored of more and more of his Fae, as Jaskier had already seen three poor maidens being dragged off to one side of the castle by their hair as they kicked, screamed, and gnashed their teeth, never to be seen again. Jaskier was almost certain he was going to be next on more than one occasion, considering the filthy and rebellious mouth he had on him, but he always managed to scrape on by the skin of his teeth. Why? Because Jaskier was his favorite… of course he was. That was just his luck, after all.

“Alright, alright,” Jaskier shot back, making his way over to the washbasin in the corner to clean himself before throwing on the… rather scant clothing His Excellency had supplied for him. “Don’t get your petticoats in a twist!”

“Ya best watch yerself, blaggard Puck!” The guard shot back before spitting in Jaskier’s general direction. Ah yes, the joys of being unable to use his glamour: everyone knew what he was, and everyone hated him for it. “I got meself an iron sword right here, an’ I ain’t afraid ‘a usin’ it!”

Jaskier rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. While he wasn’t one who enjoyed keeping his comments to himself, he knew when he was outmatched. And, sadly, that was the case right now… at least, until his boys found where he was being held and were able to break him free.

~*~

Before long, Jaskier was ready and being shoved down the winding stone halls of Castle Troy (a rather uninspired name, but functional if nothing else).

“Can’t wait to see what the Lord has in store fer ya now, Bard,” The second guard, who had joined sometime during the walk, taunted. “Maybe he’ll have ya sit there at his knees, nice ‘n lovely-like, while he strokes yer hair like the prized pet ya are.”

His friend, with whom Jaskier was already far too acquainted with earlier, laughed loudly at that before grabbing him by the bicep and tugging him back so Jaskier’s ass was flush against the guard’s front. The man’s breath smelled of rotten meat and potatoes, like he hadn’t freshened his breath in weeks, as he whispered in Jaskier’s ear.

“Perhaps you could do some practicin’ fer him,” The guard with the foul breath offered oh-so kindly as he trailed the hand that wasn’t holding Jaskier still down the man’s abdomen and dangerously close to his nether regions. “I wouldn’t be opposed, ya know…”

Jaskier could feel bile rising in his throat next to blind panic as he twisted his arm free from the filthy bastard’s grip and shoved him to the floor with the force of a swift blow to his nose. While he’d had his powers stripped from him, which naturally left him weaker than usual, Jaskier was no damsel. He could handle himself for now, thank you very much.

“Keep your hands to yourself, you perverted cad!” Jaskier shot back to the guard as he spat blood on the stone tiles, glaring at the Fae man with pure hatred.  _ Good _ , Jaskier thought.  _ The feeling’s mutual. _

That was all he could think, however, before the second guard snatched him up in his much stronger, more sturdy grip. In less than a moment, Jaskier was being hauled up in a crushing grip around his arms and chest, the sheer force behind the sudden movement knocking the wind out of him and stunning him just long enough for the man to start dragging him in the direction of the Lord’s Great Hall.

As soon as Jaskier realized where he was headed, and what the guard was bound to say, he started wriggling and threshing his body around violently, attempting to jerk himself from the guard’s grasp. “YOU CUR! YOU  _ ROGUE _ , YOU  **_REPROBATE_ ** ; I SAY,  _ UN _ **_HAND_ ** _ ME-! _ ” 

At that exact instant, the doors to the hall were pushed open by more guards and Jaskier was dragged to the throne at the front, to Hadrian’s presence, still screaming bloody curses and writhing in the guard’s grip as if possessed.

“My sweet,” Hadrian cooed while reaching out a hand to caress his face, and if that didn’t make Jaskier want to vomit he didn’t know what did. “My pixie, what has gotten into you?”

The man was speaking to Jaskier like he was a child, like his fear and his malice were a simple temper tantrum and nothing more. The thought made him want to gut Hadrian right then and there, in front of the horde of Jaskier’s own kin and the man’s guards, but of course that wasn’t a possibility.

“He was tryin’ to put his hands on Favian, my Lord,” The guard replied calmly, lying through his fucking teeth. And, ohhhh ho hoooo, Jaskier would turn his insides into outsides in a moment if given the chance. “Knocked ‘im on the nose, sent him down. Had to pry the Pix off Favian meself. Nasty little whore, he is.”

_ Oh, that’s it _ , Jaskier thought.  _ He’s a dead man. _

Just as Jaskier was turning in the man’s grip to teach him a lesson about lying, Hadrian called forth his mage and suddenly, Jaskier’s body seized up and he fell to his knees, the cuffs and collar glowing an ominous red as he felt something akin to a bolt of lightning shoot through him.

After a moment that felt like a lifetime in which Jaskier could not so much as scream due to the sheer  **_agony_ ** coursing through him, the pain promptly vanished and left him gasping on the floor, limp like a dead fish. 

“Thank you, Uzinor,” Jaskier heard Hadrian say through the pulse roaring in his ears. “That will be all.”

A finger hooked itself just under the point of his chin and tilted Jaskier’s head up and Hadrian’s face was just centimeters from Jaskier’s. “I will be having a ball tonight in honor of my daughter’s betrothal. You will be performing with the others, as always, but I want you to be the crown jewel of the lot. My sweet, you will be the solo artist, the grand finale of the evening.”

Despite the aftershocks coursing through Jaskier, causing his muscles to jolt and his spine to seize in pain, the man managed to scoff, “ _ Never. _ ”

Lord Hadrian’s finger then dug itself deep into the soft flesh just before Jaskier’s jaw, causing him to wince. “So be it,” The man spat, but then he was smiling maliciously with a fire in his eyes. “But, should you choose not to partake in the night’s festivities, I’ll have you provide some for Favian and his friend. I’m sure they would be more than happy to be given a private show, especially one so…  _ hands-on _ .”

“... **_Fine,_ ** ” Jaskier snarled. “But I choose the song.”

“As you wish, my sweet.”

~*~

It was the end of the night and Jaskier was ready to leave; the outfit--which was really more like lingerie and a tulle train with lots of jewels and dangly golden threads--that Lord Hadrian had forced him to don for the ballwas beyond humiliating, and Jaskier could hardly stand any longer in the ridiculous heels he was wearing. But, not yet. No, Jaskier still had to do his solo act for his adoring crowd of perverted swine.

And what a song it was.

“ _ 'Sé mo laoch, mo Ghile Mear, _

_ 'Sé mo Chaesar, Ghile Mear, _

_ Ní fhuaras féin aon tsuan ná séan, _

_ Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo Ghile Mear. _ ”

Jaskier sang, knowing that only the Fae in the room had any clue as to what the meaning was behind the tune. He saw a couple look at each other out of the corner of his eye, grinning like the cat who caught the canary. Jaskier supposed they were, for this song was one of rebellion in the Fae tradition. The two started to join, forming a background chorus tone as the others started to pick up on Jaskier’s intention.

If they couldn’t openly rebel without being tortured near ceaselessly, maybe they could use their only advantage in their favor: no one here knew the Fae tradition and language like they did. They just might get away with this.

The purple-skinned fae at the drums began to play and Jaskier shot him a smile, his own tealish-blue skin and navy hair seemingly glowing in the candlelight of the ballroom as his teal-and-lime-gradient lips glittered with the joy of his grin.

“ _ Bímse buan ar buaidhirt gach ló, _

_ Ag caoi go cruaidh 's ag tuar na ndeór _

_ Mar scaoileadh uaim an buachaill beó _

_ 'S ná ríomhtar tuairisc uaidh, mo bhrón. _ ”

After this, the whole choir joined in to sing the rest of the chorus with him and the sound was amazing. The Fae’s alluring and magical voices harmonizing as they enchanted and energized the air around them; despite the iron holding them down, the Fae managed to send surges of static through the air, raising the hair on the backs of the nobility’s necks and probably causing more of a commotion than Jaskier should have started. However, this was the only way he could rebel, and he was damn well going to try.

Of course, the mage had to finally catch on to what the Fae were doing. Jaskier, in hindsight, might have forgotten that it was part of a mage’s schooling to learn the language of most Elder beings, Fae included.

With a shock of light and a boom like thunder, Jaskier was sent flying back several feet away from his kin and slamming down to the ground. He could hear a few of his ribs cracking from the crash, along with screams of terror and worry from his brethren.

Jaskier couldn’t help but wheeze out a small whine as he curled in on himself a bit, the mage slowly making his way over to him.

“You are going to regret that,” Uzinor growled before forcefully grabbing a fistful of Jaskier’s hair and dragging the bard behind him towards that room from which no Fae returned.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to associate the Fae with Celtic songs and traditions, so in my mind, the language of the Fae in this AU is very similar to, if not the same as Gaelic. Therefore, the traditional Fae songs and music will be Irish and/or Scottish. I figured I should explain this universe with that since there will be more to come and I may use more and more Celtic music in the future.
> 
> As always, please lmk what you thought of the fic! Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Thank you <3


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